


can't hold out forever

by scorchstorm



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5 + 1, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gay Mike Wheeler, Gay Will Byers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Homophobic Slurs, also el is an angel, basically mike has a lot of feelings and the party been knew, he's sad and stressed but it all works out in the end, until like s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchstorm/pseuds/scorchstorm
Summary: It’s always been Mike and Will since the day that they met, and so life goes as follows – they stick by one another throughout everything, from campaigns to demogorgons, and yet somehow they can’t quite see what it is they’ve been missing (or ignoring) this whole time.orfive times that others noticed how mike felt + the one time that will did.





	can't hold out forever

**Author's Note:**

> I only recently got into ST, and so this is a bit messy and all over the place. This is basically snapshots of them throughout the years, mainly focusing on Mike, so I hope I managed to portray his struggles as accurately as possible.
> 
> Enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment with some feedback!
> 
> The title is from REO Speedwagon's Can't Fight This Feeling, because obviously.

**1.**

Mike and Will met in kindergarten.

Joyce remembers the day with vivid colour, having picked Will up after her shift, tapping out a rhythm absently against the steering wheel as she drives home. He’d been quiet, reserved in the way he usually is, perched in the front seat and staring at the blur of the world passing him by.

“So, sweetie, did you make any friends?”

And just like that, the clouds seem to part, and nothing but sunlight streams through.

Will straightens in his seat and he’s positively glowing, a beaming smile already taking over his lips, and whenever she glances at him once they reach a stoplight, it seems like he can’t control it. No matter how hard he tries to morph his mouth, he keeps grinning, and Joyce finds herself mirroring his expression, warmth settling in her chest.

“I did, Mom! His name’s Mike and he came up to me at the swings at recess and asked if I wanted to be his friend.”

She listens attentively, driving on autopilot as her son recalled his day. Not only was happiness radiating off of Will in waves, it was in his voice. She hasn’t heard him be so carefree in a long time, not since the constant shouting that she and Lonnie would do would wear him down the older he got. Joyce doesn’t even let the clouds settle over her good mood from being reminded that things are hanging by a thread, because nothing could compare to this.

“I said yes, Mom.”

Joyce focuses on the road ahead, but she doesn’t need to glance at her son to know how much he’s smiling, to know how happy he is to have somebody. She feels it, too; that relief knowing that he isn’t all alone when he leaves the house, that warmth at knowing that things are looking up in small ways.

And his great mood lasts all week. And everytime Joyce goes to pick him up, Will always has something positive to say, and it’s always to do with Mike. His _best_ friend, Will tells her after a few days, the label like a badge of honour that Will displays proudly for all to see.

In fact, his great mood lasts for months.

Until Lonnie leaves.

Will sobs his eyes out when Lonnie’s packing up his truck, not understanding why his father doesn’t want to stay, why he doesn’t want anything to do with his family. Jonathan is comforting him as best as he can, holding him tight and keeping his head high even though his jaw wobbles and he’s biting back tears of his own.

Lonnie casts one final glance towards Will, before pinning Joyce with a glare, almost accusing. “What did I tell you?” he says, keys clinking as he fists them in his hand. “He’s a fairy. He ain’t no son of mine, neither of them are.”

It had taken all of Joyce’s willpower to not simply fling herself forward and throttle him. She stands still, eyes of steel and heart of stone, ignoring the stinging of her eyes as the truck pulls away and curls dust into the air, into her face. She bites her tongue as Lonnie peels away into the distance, arms crossed, silently berating herself for ever letting him near her children.

Will’s mood is dampened after that. He continues going to kindergarten, acting fine during the mornings when Joyce would drop him off. Sometimes he didn’t seem well, and sometimes he’d be looking for a day away from it all, to burrow under his covers in safety.

Except Joyce doesn’t want him to wallow. She especially doesn’t want him robbed of the happiness he feels whenever he goes to kindergarten, because he sees Mike, and Mike makes everything better whether he’s aware of it or not. It doesn’t matter how down Will is, because after he’s seen his best friend, there’s nothing that even the devil could do that could pry Will’s smile from his face, even when his cheeks are damp and his body trembles.

Sometimes, Mike even comes over with his mother’s permission, when Joyce is off work or when Jonathan is home. They’d go to Will’s room, and the door would shut with a soft click, and they’d hide away from the world until it was time for dinner or when Mike’s mother would come pick him up.

Now was one of those times. Joyce finishes setting up dinner and goes to call for the boys, only her voice dies in her throat. Music blares loudly from Jonathan’s room, heavy drums and shrill guitars, and she knows yelling would be fruitless, so she walks.

Will’s door is open a few inches, enough for Joyce to glance inside before attempting to get their attention. She stops, mouth parted, and whatever she was going to vocalise gets caught on her tongue.

They’re sat on the floor of Will’s room, both their backs to the door, various toys scattered around them but long forgotten. Will is visibly trembling, head bowed, and Mike’s got an arm slung over his shoulder to tug him close, leaning down to whisper to him despite the noise from the other room that would drown them out even if they decided to yell.

Her heart tears in two, unable to pry her eyes from Will’s hunched back, because he’s taken Lonnie leaving to heart and he’s so strong yet so small. She’s always known Will was a sensitive soul, but knowing that he was breaking when she wasn’t looking hurts, a lump lodged in her throat.

And then her eyes trail to Mike, whose face is intense and focused on Will. She can’t see much, just the slope of his nose and the movement of his lips, but he’s calm, a grounding presence that Will needs.

Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover how Joyce feels about Mike Wheeler.

She’s blinking back tears by the time Will pries himself away from Mike, only to twist his body to look at him head on. His face is red and splotchy and he’s sniffling, and he falls into Mike as if he can’t hold himself up anymore, arms coiling around his neck as he cries.

Mike hugs him back instantly, holding him close by his back, burrowing his face into the crook of Will’s neck. He must murmur something, because then Will laughs, an ugly wet sound that solidifies the thought that Will is going to be _okay_, eventually.

Joyce creeps away from the door once she remembers how to move, deciding to give them a few more minutes wrapped up in their little bubble, and turns on her heel to knock half-heartedly on Jonathan’s door, vocal chords locked tight.

.

Will and Mike stay joined at the hip for years to come. They maintain their tight knit bond throughout elementary, too busy in their own world to open up their eyes to any other kids. Will takes a great interest in art and soon he’s creating masterpieces all over the house, and Joyce hangs them in the hall, holds them up on the fridge, anywhere she can.

Middle school soon approached, with Will tearfully expressing his worry to Joyce and Jonathan about the big kids and how they’ll call him names like dad did. Joyce holds him tight as Jonathan talks him down from the ledge, reminding him that it’s okay to be different and, above all else, he has Mike.

Mike, who gets picked up by Joyce to be taken along with Will to school because his mom is busy and his dad is at work. Mike, who offers his hand without hesitation, and Will takes it and threads their fingers together. Joyce eyes them the whole drive there, and how they have bashful grins and flared faces and how they cling to one another like they’ve always done and always will continue to do.

They only break apart when they get to school, because there are kids that can be assholes and Will is still sensitive when it comes to bullying. He scrambles out the car after giving Joyce a kiss, and Joyce stops Mike before he can follow.

“I just wanted to say good luck on your first day, sweetie,” she says, and then after a moment, “Thank you for looking out for my boy.”

The grin she receives is blinding, capable of rivalling the sun burning in the sky. There’s something soft about his eyes when he tells her, “It’s okay. He’s my favourite.”

And then Mike’s climbing out the car and Joyce finds herself fighting back tears, and she watches with blurred vision as Mike and Will head towards the front doors, shoulders bumping and hands brushing all the while.

They settle in fine as the months pass, wrapped up in one another the way they curl their pinkies together whenever they make a promise, unbreakable even if they’re parted. Will’s passion for art continues to grow, and his drawings continue to get hung up all over the house, covering the walls and the fridge, and when Joyce drops Will off at the Wheelers’ on occasion, she notices that they’re displayed proudly on the walls of Mike’s room and the basement, too.

The boys befriend Lucas halfway into the school year, and then they all band together and join the AV club, where they subsequently meet Dustin, and then it’s as if something comes together that was absent before. Will has always been more than content with Mike’s friendship, but having a couple more friends has done wonders for him, and the four of them seem to gel together as though they’ve known each other for a lifetime.

Nonetheless, the fact that they’re a group now does nothing to weaken Mike and Will’s bond. If anything, it somehow strengthens throughout the years. It delights Joyce deeply, not only because Will is happy, but because she likes Mike. She likes how he’ll ring the house phone and asks how she is before asking for Will, and how he always looks out for her boy, and how he’s there for Will when she can’t be.

She’ll look at the four of them and smile fondly, heart fluttering at the pure adoration gracing Will’s features as he looks at them all, and the weight that lifts from his shoulders when he’s with them. He throws his head back and laughs loud, and he doesn’t care about seeming weird, because the others are the same.

She’ll look at Will, who’ll look at Mike, who’s always looking back, and she knows that her boy is okay.

Jonathan knows, too. He’s said as much to Joyce late at night, when the sound of laughter and cheering can be heard from Will’s room, ringing out like wind chimes.

“He’s happy,” Jonathan notes, and the relief is audible in his voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” A pause. “Are you happy, baby?”

“Yeah, mom,” he reassures her. Then, after a moment, Jonathan speaks again, soft and low for their ears only. “I’m glad he has them.”

Joyce knows exactly how he feels.

“Y’know, I saw them at Castle Byers the other day, and – I don’t know.”

Something about Jonathan’s voice makes Joyce stand up straighter, eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

“What, was something wrong?”

“No, no, I just mean – I don’t know, mom. Do they like each other?”

The confusion must show in the lines of Joyce’s face, because Jonathan elaborates only a second later.

“Like – you know, like how you used to like dad.”

_Oh._

“I – I don’t know, honey,” she says.

“I might be wrong, I don’t know,” Jonathan says then, looking somewhat sheepish as he rubs his neck. “There’s nothing wrong with that if it is. Will isn’t – Lonnie’s wrong about Will, but…” he trails off.

The thing is, Joyce isn’t even surprised, not really. She’s never taken Lonnie’s words to heart, and a part of her knew Will _was_ different. Her maternal instincts went haywire when it came to that sort of thing, when couples were shown kissing in films and Dustin and Lucas would giggle and Mike would pull a face but Will remained still, almost as if he’s too afraid to move, to react.

It’s just that sometimes she’d see them and think that there was something different. Sure, they were still young, they were only eleven, and they’ve always been close, but. There have been times that Will has blushed when Mike gives him attention, or does little things to make Will happy.

Except – it’s not just Will. She knows her boy better than anyone, knows that he has a lot of love to give and that a lot of that love is reserved for Mike, but – but Mike is sometimes more obvious. Mike gets this look in his eye when he stares at Will, when Will isn’t looking, as if he’s hung the stars in the sky. As if Will is a wonder that never ceases to amaze.

It’s why Jonathan’s words hit her hard. Mike looks at Will with one of the softest expressions Joyce thinks she’s ever seen, and sometimes, the puppy-eyed gaze does remind Joyce of how she used to feel about Lonnie once upon a time. In the early days, when everything was new and exciting and they were _kids_ grasping at the concept of crushes, of wanting someone as more than a friend.

They’re young, Joyce reminds herself. But she was young once, and she can still remember getting those thoughts and feelings for the first time about someone, and thinks that maybe in a few years, things will change.

Either way, Mike’s always been a good choice.

Joyce couldn’t think of anyone better for her boy.

* * *

**2.**

There’s a permanent sickening feeling that swells in the pit of Lucas’ stomach, never ceasing and always convulsing, like bile threatening to creep up his throat at any moment.

It’s been two days since Will has been missing, but it feels like a lifetime.

Guilt has been threatening to eat Lucas alive, and he knows that Dustin feels equally as responsible, as though they could’ve stopped Will from vanishing if they’d tried harder, if they’d paid more attention to him that night.

Guilt has been threatening to eat Lucas alive, but it’s already started devouring Mike.

In the few years that they’ve been friends, he’s never seen Mike like this before. He’s always looking seconds way from a breakdown, eyes wide and frantic and impossibly young, and he’s always got his head in his hands or his fingers raking through his hair in frustration, and he’s still in the habit of starting to speak to Will as though everything is normal and Will is by his side like he should be. The way Mike deflates when reality catches up and he realises Will isn’t with them breaks Lucas’ heart.

Lucas also knows that Mike’s been listening to _Should I Stay or Should I Go_ on repeat, because he hums the tune under his breath and then looks pained a millisecond later, mouth twisting like he’s had something sour, and his eyes get glassy and his voice strains when he jumps into conversation, mouth running to keep himself from falling.

They met Eleven, and things seemed to be better. She’s okay, even if she is really weird, and Lucas has to bite his tongue to stop himself from making comments that’ll either upset or anger her, or absolutely set Mike off. She’s the key to finding Will, after all, and they need all the help they can get.

He sees Mike staring at Eleven when she’s not looking, or even when she is, because she’s been trapped as an experiment all her life and doesn’t understand what that all means. And they’re kids, sure, but Lucas isn’t dumb. He’s twelve but he knows what that look means, and something doesn’t sit right in his chest because for so long, that’s the look that’s been reserved for Will.

Mike might be infatuated with Eleven, and he might think she’s pretty and badass (because yeah, she is) but seeing him project those eyes onto her when he’s normally giving Will that undivided attention is making Lucas’ stomach churn.

“I’m the only one who cares about Will!” Mike bursts one day, urgent and watery, and something shifts. The fog clears ever so slightly, and Lucas can see the bigger picture.

He’s the only one who cares about Will _like that_.

It’s the only thing Lucas can think of, and it fits like the missing piece of a puzzle he’s been searching for.

“We’ll find him,” Lucas whispers to Mike one night. They’re all in the basement, with Dustin snoring softly off to the left and Eleven curled up in her little makeshift fort, and Lucas and Mike are sat with their knees pulled up to their chests, side by side, because they’re restless and they can’t sleep.

“Yeah, I know,” Mike replies, voice cracking from the weight of his words. He believes it with everything he has, but the fight is so hard that it drains them, and even the most determined of people can feel tired after a while. Mike would never give up on Will, but the longer they search, the more it sinks in that he’s gone, and that more time passes where their party isn’t complete.

Without Will, Mike’s lost in a forest with no hope of getting out until the sun rises.

Except the forecast is nothing but stormy skies, and Lucas has to watch his friend spin in circles and fight back the defeat threatening to crush him whole.

“I just – I hate that he’s alone,” Mike admits softly, eyes glazed over.

Lucas feels that in his throat. “Me too.”

“I should be there with him.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Lucas whispers, treading carefully. “It’s bad enough one of us is gone, but any more than that and it gets so much harder.”

Mike’s shaking his head back and forth before Lucas has even finished speaking. “You don’t get it,” he says mournfully. “It’s not the same.”

“Then tell me.”

Mike’s quiet for several moments, deliberating. “It’s like – like if it was my dad, or something, I’d be okay. It sounds bad, but… but he doesn’t seem to care for me all that much, right? I’d still look for him, but it’s – it’s different.”

“Okay,” Lucas whispers, thinking.

“But it’s _Will_,” Mike stresses, and a few tears escape and roll down his cheek, dripping down his chin. “I just – I need him, okay? I don’t know what to do without him here. He’s just – he’s always made everything better, ‘cause he’s always been here. And now he’s not.”

“Mike-”

“There’s never been a time where he wasn’t _here_, Lucas.”

Lucas halts at that, struggling to swallow around the lump that’s blossoming in his throat. Mike curls his fingers into the fabric of his pants but he still visibly trembles, a shiver that runs through his body, cold from his loss.

“I miss him,” Mike says, and it’s simple yet so heavy. “I want him back.”

“We’ll get him back,” Lucas says suddenly, somewhat fierce. He leans into Mike’s space, pressing their sides together, and rests a hand comfortingly over Mike’s. “Okay? Just don’t forget that we’re here, too. It might not be the same, but we’re here.”

“Sorry,” Mike breathes tearfully. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re important to me too, you know that? You, and Dustin, and El. I didn’t mean to make it sound otherwise, it’s just-”

Mike clamps his mouth shut, lip quivering, and he ducks his head as if he’s too ashamed to look at Lucas anymore. There’s a shift in his demeanour, like he’s said too much, and Lucas is left reeling from everything that’s happened.

“Mike…” he starts, cautious like approaching a wounded animal.

After a moment, Mike looks back up, and Lucas scans his face. What he’s looking for, he doesn’t know, but he must find it. Something settles within Lucas, an understanding that dawns on him the longer he stares, and Mike must know that too.

He looks scared. “He’s my best friend.”

Mike says it like it’s the only explanation.

And in a way, it is.

Until he repeats it, and Mike breaks, face crumpling. “He’s my _best friend_.”

He shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes, blubbering, and Lucas can only tug him into a hug and rest his cheek atop of Mike’s head, mind whirling with possibilities, trying to think of the right thing to say.

“That’s okay,” Lucas whispers. “It’ll be okay.”

“You don’t _know_ that-”

The conversation is different. It’s weighted, more serious, with undertones that carry implications Lucas hasn’t experienced before. He’s always known Mike and Will were close, practically tied together, but the way Mike’s speaking reminds Lucas of the way he’d look at Eleven, the way he’d called her pretty.

Like he _liked_ her.

Lucas knows then that Mike is right. He doesn’t know if things are going to be okay, at least when it comes to this. He doesn’t know if Mike himself fully understands just what it is he feels, and what exactly it all means. He doesn’t know how Will feels, even if Lucas has had his suspicions for a while now that he’s not like the others, that he cares for Mike differently to how he cares about Dustin and Lucas.

All he knows is that it’s Mike, and it’s Will.

It’s _Mike and Will_, and their wires have been crossed for as long as Lucas can remember.

“You guys get through anything,” Lucas tells him softly, mouth curving down at the sounds of Mike’s cries. They’re muffled now, one hand covering his mouth to stifle the sound, the other gripping Lucas’ like a lifeline.

“Even this?”

Mike’s asking about Will disappearing. Mike’s asking about other things that he can’t quite vocalise yet. Lucas doesn’t have the answers to those things, but he does know one thing.

“It’s like I said,” he murmurs, voice low for Mike’s ears only. “No matter what, we’re here.”

Mike nods, falling into Lucas, and he holds him as he cries.

No matter what, they’re a Party.

And they stick together no matter what.

* * *

**3.**

When Max first meets the Party, she thinks they’re just a standard bunch of _idiots_.

She learns pretty quick that she’s not wrong. They’re a little weird when they try and talk to her initially, especially Lucas and Dustin, but she just figures they aren’t used to girls (and that’s not surprising). She gets invited to trick or treat with them and Max can’t lie, she’s happy about it.

Soon enough, despite butting heads with Mike constantly and Will barely saying a word to her initially and Dustin and Lucas continuing to do… whatever it is they’re doing, she can’t help but feel _fond_. Max finds herself getting attached to Dustin and Lucas’ bickering and Will’s quiet, soft laughter and Mike’s undeniable urge to play hero. They’re nerds and she doesn’t have much interest in the films or games that they like but she likes _them_.

Things are a little different on Halloween, though.

After she scares them and makes Lucas scream like a girl (which she’ll _never_ let him live down) she wanders off with him and Dustin, and gets wrapped up in their bickering. They start going door to door before they realise that Mike and Will are gone.

“Does that happen a lot?” Max asks.

“All the time,” Dustin dismisses. “Don’t worry about it.”

Except then they hear someone yelling, panicked cries of Will’s name filling the October night, and Max is alarmed at how fast her heart leaps into her throat. Lucas turns as soon as the noise hits his ears, and he takes off, Dustin in hot pursuit, leaving Max to follow behind them blindly.

They find Will curled in on himself on the floor, back against a wall and looking as though he’s not entirely _there_. His eyes are wide but they’re vacant, fingernails digging into his legs, and his lips are stuttering with uneven breaths that sound like he’s fighting for air.

Mike is crouched down in front of him, hands clasped on his shoulders, calling out his name a touch desperately, his own eyes darting all around in frenzy.

“I couldn’t find you! Are you hurt?”

“What’s wrong with him?” the question slips out of Max’s mouth before she can stop herself, to think of a better way to word it. Will looks seconds away from shattering or something, and she’s freaked out but it’s more than that. She’s worried about him.

Will’s always been reserved but this is different.

“I’m taking him home,” Mike declares instead, helping Will to his feet with a gentleness Max would’ve never expected from him.

His arm threads behind Will’s back to support him, and Mike pins Dustin with a harsh glance when the boy moves forward to offer a hand.

“Mike.”

“_I’ve got him_.”

It’s protective, and it’s a warning, as if daring anyone to try and take Will away from him. It’s Mike’s hero complex in full force, only deeper, something _more_. He’s almost feral, the curl of his mouth ready to bite at anyone that even breathes too loud, because Will is a thread away from completely unravelling and Mike’s trying his best to keep the stitching together.

“Keep trick or treating, I was bored anyways,” Mike mutters. He turns, leading Will away from the rest of the group, and as soon as their backs are turned, it’s as if his guard drops. Mike’s face softens in the blink of an eye, voice hushed and gentle as he says something to Will, holding him close as they head into the night.

“What’s wrong with _him_?” Max repeats again, only this time she’s not quite sure who she’s talking about.

“Will… he’s been through a lot,” Lucas says hesitantly.

It’s vague, and there’s clearly much more to the story than that, but Max doesn’t bring herself to pry. She finds she doesn’t really want to at the moment, not after witnessing Will looking smaller than normal, like he was helpless.

“Okay, so what’s Wheeler’s problem?”

“Mike’s just a little – a little protective,” Lucas supplies.

Max can’t help but snort. “Touchy, more like.”

“Hey, listen,” and it’s Dustin, looking somewhat serious for once. “We’ve all – I mean, Will’s been through a lot, but nobody’s taken it harder than Mike has.”

Max has to ask. “Are they… y’know, together?”

“No,” the boys reply simultaneously, and she furrows her eyebrows.

“It’s cool if they are. In California, people are more open with that kinda stuff. I just figured…”

“No, they’re not,” Lucas assures her. “They’re – they’re best friends.” As he speaks, a frown of his own takes over, and he’s looking thoughtful as if he’s unsure as to whether he’s said the right thing.

“You don’t look convinced,” Max says. “I was just wondering. People say stuff all the time about Will-”

“People are assholes,” Dustin replies, and it’s sharp and poised, making Max pause.

“Yeah, they are. I just – they called him things, and I was wondering if it were true.”

Lucas and Dustin exchange a look, and she knows that they understand exactly what she means. She’s heard things about _Zombie Boy_, which she has questions about that she’ll surely get to another time, but there’s other comments about _fairies _and _queers_ and things that she heard much less of in California, more whispers than the shouts that they are in Hawkins.

When Dustin speaks next, it’s the most serious he’s ever been. “If you have a problem with Will, then you have a problem with us.” His tone is final, leaving no room for argument, although there’s nothing about him that suggests he thinks Max is actually like that.

She shakes her head as soon as he’s done. “No, no, I don’t. I swear. I just – I mean, the way Mike was with him…” she trails off. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Look,” Lucas jumps in. “We know as much as you, okay? Will – we don’t know if what people say about Will is true, because he’s never said anything, but we’ve never asked. He’ll talk about that if he wants to, whenever he wants to.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, judging by the crease of his forehead. It’s as if there’s something playing on his mind that has been for a long time, but he doesn’t continue. He just falls quiet, and the three of them stand in silence for a moment.

“Okay,” Max whispers, feeling as though she has to keep her voice low. “What about Mike, though?”

“What about Mike?” Dustin asks.

Max blinks. “Do you guys seriously not see anything?”

Either she’s seeing things, or the fact that Mike seemingly has a gigantic crush the size of the quarry is being ignored. She’s sure of it.

Lucas shifts, glancing off to the side, and Max narrows her eyes at him in curiosity. Dustin, however, simply shrugs.

“I don’t know, but what I _do_ know is that I want candy.”

And just like that, whatever spell was over them all has broken. Dustin beams as he holds up his pillowcase, silently asking if they can keep trick or treating, and Lucas comes out of the haze he was in to share a grin with his best friend, and then they’re looking at Max as if asking for permission.

“Only if I get all your Reese’s,” she declares, grinning as they both splutter in protest.

Max nudges Lucas with her shoulder and she cuffs Dustin playfully around the head, and the trio walk off towards the nearest house in search of some candy. She shoves all of her burning questions into the back of her mind, deciding that tonight isn’t the night for answers.

And the next day, when the three of them plus Mike are waiting at the bike racks, she can’t pry her eyes away from the sight of Mike scanning the crowds relentlessly, biting at the skin of his thumb.

He only lets his hand fall when he finally spots the Byers’ car pull up, revealing his smile, and Max rolls her eyes so hard she’s convinced that they’re going to get stuck there.

Boys definitely are stupid.

.

And if boys are stupid, then Mike Wheeler is a goddamn moron.

Max comes to this conclusion on the night of the Snowball. She’d just witnessed a girl go and ask Will to dance, who looked stricken like a deer in headlights, and then Mike looking equally as shocked. Except then he’s encouraging Will to go and dance, and so he does, because Will always listens to Mike.

It’s just that Mike looks somewhat _mopey_ as he watches Will head to the dancefloor, positioning his hands on the girl’s waist.

Max’s own hands twitch from where they’re resting at the nape of Lucas’ neck as they sway lightly to the song that floats through the gym. Whether it’s to facepalm or to go and punch Mike, she doesn’t know.

“Seriously, though,” she finds herself murmuring, eyes never leaving Mike for a second. “He’s so obvious.”

Lucas must follow her gaze, because he makes a noise of recognition. “You think?”

She turns to look at him then, something about his voice making her head turn. Lucas is still looking at Mike, whose sat alone at a table, eyes flickering every so often towards the dancefloor.

Towards Will.

“Don’t you?” Max asks quietly.

“I-” Lucas starts, faltering. “I mean, maybe? But there’s Eleven, so…”

“But what do _you_ think?” Max presses, because she wants to _know_. She wants to know if anyone else can see what she does, because sometimes she thinks she’s going crazy over it. Mike seems to be pining over Will and nobody seems to be paying it any mind.

Lucas says nothing, and Max is about to let it slide, when he speaks low under his breath.

“I think you might be right.”

Max’s eyebrows fly to her hairline. “Yeah?”

“Don’t say anything to either of them,” Lucas says quickly. “It’s not that – neither of them have a problem with people being… you know. It’s just a bit complicated right now.”

“I won’t,” Max swears, but she’s smiling. “I just think it’s painful.”

Lucas snorts, and she giggles, leaning into his space to press their foreheads together.

The gym doors open then, and Max spots Eleven floating into the room in a blue dress, looking angelic. She spots Mike straighten to his feet not even a moment later, and the two gravitate towards each other like magnets.

It isn’t long before they’re dancing, looking content, and Max can’t help but seek out Will amongst the crowd of students. When she finds him, she discovers what she’d already suspected – Will was already looking over at Mike, looking dejected for the briefest of moments before plastering on a happy expression, shifting his focus back to his date.

It’s also then that she realises she’s been focusing a lot on the boys rather than Lucas, and it makes her stomach twist. Max glances back at Lucas to find him already looking at her, eyes soft and understanding, a smile toying at the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry,” Max says. “I’m having a great time with you, I just-”

“I get it,” Lucas says, tugging her closer ever so slightly. “I want them happy, too.”

Max nods, and then she tucks her head into the crook of Lucas’ neck as they sway to the melody of the slow song crooning over the speakers. She reigns in the questions once more, because this is time for her and Lucas, not for the others.

Even if it’s painful to see Will staring at Mike, who continues to move softly with Eleven.

Even if Will never sees the way Mike looks back at him every time.

And as the night draws to the close, and the Party assembles in a mixture of laughter and conversation and all round positivity, Max can’t help herself.

She waits until Lucas and Dustin start doing some ridiculous dance together, Eleven playfully tugging Will to dance with her, when she makes her move. Mike retreats to the table of confections to grab some more punch and she follows, and she doesn’t even try to be subtle.

“Can I help you?” Mike asks flatly, sensing her moving behind him.

“I’m confused,” she states, ignoring Mike’s snort and barrelling on. “Are you and Will not a thing?”

Mike freezes, entire body stiffening, and Max feels her cheeks heat up because _fuck,_ what if this all goes south and she loses her friends over this? She and Mike have never been the best of friends, and she doesn’t know how sensitive he is about this kind of topic, but everyone’s dancing around it and it’s so _annoying_.

“What are you talking about?”

“Please,” Max scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It’s obvious.”

Mike looks flustered, cheeks blushing red, and he’s stumbling over his words. “Wha – I don’t – what are you talking about?” and then he scrambles to add as an afterthought, “I – I mean I’m – _El._”

Max is not impressed.

“Come on, Wheeler,” she moans. “You’re not that subtle. It’s a good thing he can be pretty oblivious, huh?”

Mike stares at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Max.” His voice is low, and puzzled, and there’s a sense of plea there that makes her stop short.

“You – you and Will.”

Mike blinks.

Max is quiet for all of five seconds, until she blows out a deep breath noisily, exasperated right down to her bones. “Holy shit, you’re so _stupid_.”

“_What_?” Mike practically yells, eyes darting around to see if anyone’s looking.

Max lifts her hands to her temples, rubbing at the skin there as she shuts her eyes. “I’m this close to punching you,” she tells him.

Mike has been reduced to nothing but a stuttering mess, cheeks crimson and words snagging in his throat.

“If only you would just _get your head out of your ass_.”

It’s then that Max shakes her head, taking one last glance at a gobsmacked Mike whose jaw is hanging loose, before turning on her heel and stalking off to the dancefloor.

Boys are stupid.

Mike Wheeler might just be the dumbest of them all.

* * *

**4.**

Dustin had been looking forward to the summer for months.

He’d get to unwind, relax and go on adventures with the Party, stay out ‘til late and do whatever he wanted to do (within reason). Nothing sounded better to him than to spend a couple of months with his favourite people, and he was racing to go, all eager limbs and excited yelling.

Things quickly went south.

The biggest issue was that they were growing up, and that they had girlfriends now. Lucas and Max were wrapped up in one another more, which wasn’t so bad, but it was Mike and Eleven that really brought home the fact that things had changed.

They spent every minute together. And that’s okay, they’re together and in love or whatever, but Dustin could see it was affecting the Party. He had Suzie, sure, but they were long distance, which meant he could give the Party his undivided attention.

Or in this instance, the Party was Will Byers.

He was the only one who didn’t have a girlfriend, and he seemed fine with that most of the time. He seemed fine with being alone, but Dustin could tell he was lonely, especially if the others cancelled on doing something as a group in favour of going on dates. Specifically if Mike was the one to bail.

Which was understandable. They’d been friends the longest, it’s no wonder Will would feel pushed aside and want to go to the arcade and play D&D like old times. It’s also because he was robbed of a big chunk of childhood due to all the trauma with the Demogorgon and the Upside Down, so he was entitled to a little fun every now and then.

The problem was that he wasn’t_ having_ fun. He looked miserable.

“-and so Mike and El wandered off together and Will stared after them all sad and I wanted to cheer him up so I took him to the arcade, only it didn’t work and he was moping and I’m only _one man_, Steve! How am I meant to fix our Party by myself?”

Steve blinks at him from where he’s sat idly on the front counter, swinging his legs. “Dude, take a breath every now and then.”

Dustin glares at him from the table he’s sat at and takes an exaggerated breath, and Steve shakes his head fondly, chuckling.

“No, seriously. I need advice.”

“Sounds like there isn’t a lot you can do, kiddo,” Steve says. “Will clearly misses Mike, so he’s the only one that can really fix it.”

“He’s too wrapped up with El,” Dustin moans, attacking his melting ice cream with a spoon. “It’s as if he doesn’t remember Will exists anymore.”

“He’ll get over it,” Steve says dismissively.

There’s a moment of solace, in which a quiet falls between them as Steve gets to his feet and Dustin stares into his ice cream, music playing softly in the background, when the door chimes.

Steve looks up first. “Oh, hey buddy!”

“Hey, Steve.”

Dustin whirls round at the sound of a disheartened Mike Wheeler, surprised to see him alone.

“It’s like he knew we were talking about him,” mutters Steve through gritted teeth, making himself busy with cleaning the counters for something to do.

“Shut up,” Dustin says back, before smiling at Mike as he approaches. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Saw you when I was walking past and figured I’d stop and say hey.”

“You going somewhere?”

“Not really,” Mike says, dejected, and Dustin frowns.

“Dude, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Mike answers hastily, but he’s glancing down at his shoes in the next beat, voice low. “Will’s mad at me.”

“Oh, _God_,” Steve moans. He straightens when Mike sends a curious glance in his way, and Steve points at him, covering up his exasperation with a smile. “You sound like you need some ice cream.”

He’s already moving to grab a scoop before Mike huffs out, “I don’t want ice cream.”

“What’s that, bud? You want double?”

Mike just sighs, all the fight seeping out his body, and he gingerly sinks down into the seat next to Dustin, avoiding his eyes.

“Okay, seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Will is mad at me and we haven’t hung out in a while, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Have you tried… I don’t know… _talking_ to him?”

“It’s not that simple,” Mike argues half-heartedly, twiddling his fingers.

Dustin itches to knock some sense into him, to lock Mike and Will in a cupboard or something and refuse to let them out until they’ve made up or whatever, because _you’re tearing this family apart, damnit!_

He knocks his knee against Mike’s instead, giving him a gentle smile once Mike finally looks up.

“What exactly happened, then?”

“I don’t know,” Mike says, sounding just as confused as Dustin feels. “We’ve just – we’ve grown apart a bit, and I always seem to upset him lately, and it’s hard to be around him because I never know what to say.”

In that next moment, Steve places down a serving of ice cream onto their table with a clang that resonates deep within Dustin, a key sliding into a lock and clinking open, the door thrown wide and the big picture now visible.

It takes Dustin back to the days in which Will was missing and Lucas was angry, feeling betrayed at his friend’s newfound interest in a girl, in something better. Mike didn’t understand then, and he doesn’t understand now, and Dustin’s seeing the exact scene being played out all over again.

Mike doesn’t understand why Will is hurt because he’s spending all his time with someone else, someone that Will can’t _be_, and the discovery is making Dustin’s eye twitch.

“Bon appétit, kiddos,” Steve says, before grabbing Dustin’s hat and taking it off, ruffling his hair with the other.

“Steve, we’ve talked about this!” Dustin says, side-tracked momentarily as he snatches his cap back. “I’m a man now.”

“Oh, excuse me, Henderson,” Steve snorts, holding his hands up in mock surrender, backing away towards the front counter.

Mike hunches over the table, elbows digging against the surface and shoulders hunching, toying idly with the spoon that sticks out of the ice cream. Behind him, Steve makes a face and gestures wildly to Mike, urging Dustin to do something.

Dustin’s own mouth pulls into a grimace, eyes widening as if to say _help me_, but Steve’s already started whistling softly as he turns his back on them, pretending they’re not there.

“I don’t understand, Dustin,” Mike says then, and Dustin breaks.

“Okay, I’m just going to have to spell it out for you again, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

Dustin blows out a breath, exasperated. “Do you remember how Lucas was upset that you’re world was suddenly revolving around Eleven when we first met her?”

Mike frowns. “Yeah… but-”

“It’s the same thing. Your world _still_ revolves around Eleven-”

“-that’s not true!”

“-and you’re leaving no time for anyone else, for _Will,_” Dustin emphasises, staring pointedly. “And so he’s upset because he’s been replaced and you don’t see what you’ve done wrong and you’d normally be the one Will would tell about something like this, only he can’t.”

“He’s not been replaced,” Mike protests weakly. He’s always been pale, but he seems as white as a sheet, and Dustin can’t help but fidget from how uneasy he suddenly feels.

“He’s being left behind, though. And you know it, and _he_ knows it, and you’re both dancing around it because neither of you want to admit it.”

“Shut _up_, Dustin!”

Scoops Ahoy seems to fall silent at Mike’s burst of anger, nothing but the faint murmurs of a pop song crackling over the radio. Even Steve looks shocked, paused from his perch behind the counter, and Dustin is frozen in his seat.

Mike deflates, spoon clanking against the bowl as he lets go, slumping back. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just…”

His arms are crossed delicately over his stomach, and he looks ill, as if he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I’d never leave Will behind,” Mike says, raw and honest and impossibly quiet. It’s whispered like a secret, even though it’s common knowledge to anyone with a pair of eyes, except for some reason Mike’s acting as though he’s only just understood this for the first time.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I do know that Will is probably just as messed up over this. Just – I don’t know, try and make some more time for him. Or explain why you’ve been away instead of acting like things are still the same.”

Mike swallows roughly. “It’s getting harder, Dustin.”

“What is?”

“Being around Will.”

It’s the most he’s heard out of Mike in months, and it seems to be tumbling out of his mouth like word vomit, unable to be choked down. There’s a heaviness laced in his voice that makes Dustin’s ears strain to hear every little sound, because he’s suddenly on edge and he doesn’t know why.

“Why though?” Dustin asks, barely audible.

Mike takes a while to answer. “I guess I’ve just been running from a few things, and they’re catching up.” He laughs humourlessly.

Dustin wonders whether it’s that they’re all slowly but surely growing up, growing _old_, and that the distance between each and every one of them is somewhat visible, prying open as the years go on. They’re learning what they want to do and who they want to be, and life has a funny way of blowing you sideways when you try you’re best to stay on course.

“Will’s always been there for as long as I can remember. I think I’ve been taking advantage of that.”

“We all have,” Dustin admits quietly, guilt curling into the air. “It’s – it’s not like he has anybody like we do, you know? We’re all he has until he gets into a relationship, and we’re his only friends. I think we’ve all used that.”

“Not like me,” Mike argues, voice catching, and then there’s tears dancing in his eyes and a quiver to his mouth, and everything seems to slow down.

“What – Mike, _what_?”

“I think I’m pushing him away on purpose, but I don’t mean to.”

It’s the most miserable thing he’s ever heard, and Dustin’s mind is in shambles and he doesn’t know what to _do_.

“And why would you do that?” Dustin asks quietly, with tightened fists and a hammering heart.

Somehow, he thinks a part of him knows already.

There’s clanking from somewhere in the back room, Steve bustling about and trying to give them space. There’s Mike’s laboured breathing, and his anxious tapping against the table. There’s the beginning of The Smiths’ _I Want The One I Can’t Have_ blossoming from the speakers, and there’s nothing but tension hanging between them.

Mike tries to smile, but his mouth twists into a grimace, and there are tears littering his lashes when he gives Dustin a helpless stare.

“I can’t – it’s too hard, Dustin. I _can’t_.”

It doesn’t even register at first, which is why Mike is able to scramble out of his seat and dart towards the door as though he’s been burned, fleeting and desperate. Dustin stands a few seconds later, Mike’s name dying in his throat, because the bell of Scoops Ahoy shrieks with violence as the door is thrown open, and then Mike is gone in the next breath.

“Shit,” Dustin hisses through his teeth, feeling his eyes burn with frustration, because his friend is struggling to keep his head above the water and Dustin can’t even help bring him to the shore. “_Shit._”

“Hey,” it’s Steve, creeping up next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “He’ll be alright, he just needs to cool off.”

“He said he can’t be around Will,” Dustin parrots absently, and he’s numb all over. “It’s too hard. Why is it too hard, Steve?”

Two things catch up to him then. The first is that Mike has had an internal war raging on for what seems like years and he’d never said anything, because he felt like he couldn’t, because the second it’s admitted out loud it becomes _real_.

The second is that the song crooning over the speakers in the background fits like the soundtrack to a movie, the symbol of a scene that’s full of heartbreak and longing and bitterness.

_“…and it’s driving me mad. It’s all over, all over, all over my face.”_

“I think you know, bud,” Steve whispers. “I think we all know.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up and out of Dustin’s mouth, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean – I did always think that – I don’t know, that there was _something._ I always thought that about _Will_, though, not…”

Dustin reminisces about all those times Mike would snap at Dustin and Lucas if they so much as did one too many jokes at Will’s expense. And how he was constantly breaking without Will there with him, and how seeing Will smile seemed like the most important thing for Mike to do every day. And then he thinks of what Steve just said, and everything falls into place, and Dustin doesn’t know why he never said anything.

“You know, you can like more than one person at a time,” Steve supplies thoughtfully. 

“Yeah,” Dustin acknowledges quietly. “Maybe you can.”

Or maybe, just maybe, you can ignore how you feel for so long, you think you’ve moved on and gotten it all figured out.

“Hey,” Steve says gently. “Things’ll work out. Mike and Will have been friends forever, right? They’re going to get through it.”

“I guess. I just wish that we could sort our shit out without it being such a battle like everything else.”

He thinks of El, and how she’s a badass and how he loves her. He thinks of Will, and the longing look he’d get on his face whenever Mike walked away from him. He thinks of Mike, and the fact he was a hair’s width away from shattering all over the floor.

Dustin thinks of his friends, and he thinks of the happiness they all deserve but don’t have, and wonders when exactly things became so complicated.

“It’ll all work out,” Steve reassures. “You’ll see.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re all, what? Fourteen? You’re practically babies still.”

“_Steve_,” Dustin yelps, but he’s grateful for the distraction.

“I’m just saying that you’ve got a lot of time to fix things.”

“I feel like I should try and find Mike and check up on him,” says Dustin. “Or I could call Will, or maybe see how El’s doing-”

“_Or_, you can sit and finish your ice cream and try and calm down.”

Dustin wants nothing more than to collapse in his bed and curl up into a ball, but he can’t do that right now. It’s not – he’s not even hurting, not directly, but the fact his friends are is enough to make him feel sick, only worsened by knowing that there isn’t anything he can do right now.

It’s like Steve said. He has to give them time.

He understands, but he doesn’t like it.

“You just want me to keep you company on your shift,” Dustin says, tearing his eyes away from the front door.

“However would I get through it unless you’re with me?” Steve deadpans.

“It’s true, I _am_ a delight.” Dustin sobers slightly, and then nods. “Okay, but only if you let me use the phone in, like, ten minutes.”

“Half an hour.”

“Twenty and I’ll keep you updated on all the drama.”

“Done,” Steve says instantly. “I’m way too invested in your guys’ shit to not know how this goes.”

They share a grin, warmth pooling in Dustin’s chest from how grateful he is to have Steve Harrington, and he lets himself be dragged back into the world of ice cream for a few minutes longer.

Will and Mike will work things out. They always have.

This time might just take longer than ever before.

* * *

**5.**

Eleven sits cross legged on her bed, flicking absently through one of Joyce’s old magazines, when Hopper pokes his head round her door.

“Wheeler is here to see you.”

She rolls her eyes at her dad’s judgemental tone, knowing full well he doesn’t approve of her dating Mike. She sits up, nodding, and Hopper moves away whilst pointing two fingers at his eyes, and then back to her. _I’m watching you,_ he mouths, and she giggles as he walks off, replaced with Mike.

Mike edges into her room slowly, and all too quietly, enough for her stomach to twist.

“Hey,” she says happily, trying to ignore the feeling in her gut. She pats the space in front of her for him to sit, and he does so, practically floating over to her bed.

His head is bowed, and his fingers toy with a loose thread on the knitted throw she has over her duvet, his hair falling into his eyes and blocking most of his face from view. El’s fingers twitch to reach out to him, but she curls them to stop herself, opting to let Mike be the one to reach out first.

She can tell something isn’t right.

Several minutes pass where they sit in silence, the only sounds being Joyce and Hopper laughing from the kitchen, floating through the quiet of the hallway. Jonathan and Will are out together to go get some shopping in, if El remembers correctly, and so her next suggestion of going to get Will falls flat against her tongue.

She’s about to crack and break the silence when Mike glances up, and El’s breath snags in her throat.

His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are stained with tears, his face puffy and nose a scarlet shade of red. He looks pained, eyebrows clenched together in a frown, and his lips are parted slightly with unsteady breaths.

El’s heart breaks. “Mike,” she whispers, fingers uncurling to reach out and touch his knee.

“I’m sorry,” he bursts, face crumpling, and she doesn’t hesitate. She fists the material of his sweater in her hand and tugs him with force, and he tumbles into her chest. Her arms lock around him protectively, and she runs a hand through his hair, and pretends she’s fine when she’s crumbling from the sounds of his cries.

They fall into another lapse where they don’t speak, but they don’t need to. El’s long since learned that not all silences are bad, and that sometimes, words make things worse. She also knows that actions can speak volumes, and so she hopes that Mike can feel how much she cares through the way her fingers stroke his hair, the gentleness in which she rubs his back.

Mike clings to her with all he has, and she can feel how terrified he is, and she hates it.

He pulls away once his sobs die down into nothing but sniffles, his jaw clenched and eyes blinking in rapid intervals to stop fresh tears from protruding. They’re closer now that they’re sat cross-legged with their knees touching, the contact grounding and comforting in the simplest of ways, and El lets her hands fall into her own lap, open and turned upwards, letting it be known that she’s there should Mike want to let himself be held.

Mike glances up, and their eyes meet, and they shine with fear and worry and something so raw and honest that makes El grateful for the fact that they’re sitting down.

“I love you,” is the first thing he says, hoarse and sincere. “I love you, and I always will. It’s just – it’s different now, El.”

Her thoughts are going haywire, and her heart is pumping frantically in her chest, threatening to burst. She scans his face for any sign of how he’s feeling or where this is going, but she finds nothing. He’s usually an open book but she’s never seen him so fortified, with walls so high that show he’s been preparing for this for quite some time now.

“I love you, but not like I should.”

El can’t pretend it doesn’t sting, because it does. Except the pain is soothed as soon as she sees Mike visibly deflate, shoulders dropping with something akin to relief, as if he’s been holding up a weight for so long and he’s only just let it drop.

“You love me,” she whispers, tasting the words on her tongue for the first time, because it’s like Mike said. It’s different. She’s known Mike has loved her for a long time, but these words have changed. “You love me, but not… not like _that_.”

Mike’s face pinches slightly, but he nods.

“Okay,” El breathes, the pieces slowly linking together. “I understand.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Mike whispers, staring off into space. “I did love you like that, I think. It’s just hard to wrap my head around it because-”

He glances down at his hands, and so she leans forward, grabbing them in her own. She laces their fingers together, and it makes him look back up, and when he does, she squeezes his hands to let him know that he can talk to her, that it really is going to be okay.

The words tumble past Mike’s mouth as though he can’t stop them. “-because I’ve been ignoring something for a really long time. I didn’t know how to deal with it, and a part of me didn’t even want to, and then… and then things got in the way, and I couldn’t-”

“Mike,” El says, and he bursts.

“I’m gay.”

The silence that falls over them is deafening, and El’s left reeling by his revelation. She knows what the word means, because Will came out to them less than a month ago in a burst of courage and refusal to be shunned into a corner any longer, and he’d explained to her what it meant. That he liked boys, and only boys, and El had hugged him as though nothing changed because it _hadn’t_.

Will is her friend, her _brother_, and she didn’t see anything wrong with the fact that his love is strictly reserved for boys. She still doesn’t, but to hear Mike say that he’s also gay came as a shock, especially because she never knew he was open to loving boys the same way he was to girls.

No, not girls. Not anymore. Just boys.

“I understand,” she tells him firmly, because she does. She does understand, and she wants him to know that.

And there’s a hollow feeling in her chest, the kind that girls sob about in movies, the way they feel empty after a boy breaks their heart. Mike hasn’t broken her heart, but he’s hurt her through no fault of his own, because as much as she wants Mike to be happy, he’s her first love.

She didn’t think they’d be together forever, not in the way they have been anyway, but the fact that it has to even _end_ is something that throbs.

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispers, looking seconds away from crying again, and El’s frowning now.

“Why are you sorry?”

“It’s meant to be you and me,” Mike answers, taking great interest in the coral shade of El’s nails. “I’ve hurt you. I’ve lied to you. I didn’t mean to do any of that.”

“I _know_ you didn’t,” El tells him, lifting a hand out of their embrace to cup his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. She catches a stray tear that manages to fall from her words, and she smiles at him, small and toothless but still reassuring, a silver lining in a darkened sky.

“You’re not mad?” he asks, confused and childlike, and she aches for him to understand just how wonderful he is.

“No,” El replies honestly. “I’m – I’m hurt, but not because of this. I’m hurt because you couldn’t tell me, and that you were unhappy, not because you don’t love me like you think you should.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Mike explains in a rush. “It just – I just got stuck, and it took me a while to catch up.”

El nods, taking it all in, and she feels him squeeze her hand with a vice-like grip, clinging with everything he has. He’s grateful, she knows, and the way he holds onto her feels like he didn’t expect her to stick around for this part, like she’s going to slip away at any moment.

She clings back just as fiercely.

“I thought I liked both for a while,” Mike whispers, his breath fanning her face as he shares his secret. “Boys _and_ girls. Nancy told me how she has some friends at college that are bisexual, which means you could be with either. And I thought – I thought that was me, because I-” he halts, struggling to swallow, and El drags the pad of her thumb over his cheek several times in reassurance.

He tries to send her what is meant to be a smile, but his mouth twists into a grimace. “I’ve liked boys – well, I’ve liked _a_ boy – and I knew I liked you, El, so I figured I liked both.”

“But you don’t,” El fills in quietly, as gentle as the way she continues to cradle his face.

Mike nods. “I don’t,” he admits, voice strengthening the more he admits it. “I did like you, El, and I do love you. I just – it’s not romantic. I wanted it to be, and I tried for a long time. I think even I believed it after a while, but. It’s all caught up to me now. It’s not the same as-”

“You can tell me,” El says. “I know this – this is weird. I just don’t want you hurting anymore, okay? And I understand, but I want to understand _more_, if you’ll let me.”

Her words string together in a single breath, because her English is heaps better than it was years ago but sometimes she rambles, desperate for people to understand what she’s trying to say.

At that, though, Mike lets out a breathy laugh, as if he’s in disbelief. “You can’t tell me you don’t know,” he says, somewhat bitterly. “Everybody knows. Even before I did, at least properly.”

“Mike-”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Lucas knows. Max _definitely _does, and I almost told Dustin one time but I couldn’t manage it, and-”

“You should be the one to tell me,” El cuts in after a moment, nodding to herself.

Saying it was always part of the problem, because once it’s said aloud, there’s no more pretending. There’s no more denying that this is _real_, and it’s something Mike’s always struggled with, because it’s terrifying enough when he deals with it alone. Letting other people see what’s on the other side of the door makes him tremble, especially when they’re understanding and they make him feel _worse_ without intending to, like there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone else has to say, not unless you make it true.”

Mike’s lips part slightly, in awe of the way she’s listening with undivided attention, with so much acceptance, that he has to glance away from her for a moment. El’s so _bright_, and everything about her is so _human_ in spite of all that’s happened that he has to fight back the urge to cry all over again.

“You know, the world would be so much better if everyone was like you,” he settles on saying first, because it softens the conversation. He’s still terrified, and everything’s new and so _real_ all of a sudden that he’s trying to slow it all down before he closes up again.

El thinks for a moment. “Persistent?” she asks, delighted when Mike lets out a laugh.

“_Accepting_,” he says after a moment. “There’s a lot of people that don’t like – don’t like people who are different. People like me.”

“I’m different too,” El supplies, and then makes a show of fisting her sleeve and tugging it upwards to reveal the _011_ branded on her skin.

“That’s – that’s different,” Mike settles on saying, and then they’re looking at each other and they’re _laughing_, because they’re messy and life is a whirlwind and somehow, they’ve still managed to cling to something worth fighting for. Not just each other, but their Party, and their families.

“Exactly,” El breathes, a smile tugging at her cheeks. “I’m different, but you treated me like I was normal. You say _you’re_ different, but you’re still the same to me.”

“Stop,” Mike heaves out, grinning through the onslaught of tears that are burning his eyes. “I’m fed up of crying.”

El sobers then, smile still evident but smaller, more serious. “I love you,” she says clearly, not a hint of a waver to her voice. “Always.”

They fall into another silence, because El knows Mike is fighting away another round of crying, and she recoils her arms back into her lap because if she touches him, he’ll break. She gently nudges him with her knees as it’s the only thing that keeps him together, because it’s not too much but it’s there, whereas if she hugs him like she wants to, they’ll be falling into the cycle all over again.

“It’s Will.”

Mike breathes his name like a revelation, and it takes El a moment to understand, but he’s already speaking again before she can say anything.

“I love Will.”

And the first thing El does is smile.

The knowledge clicks in her head softly, like the tune of a song accompanying the lyrics she’s had repeating in her head for days but not knowing where they’ve come from. Visions of Will and Mike throughout the years paint her eyelids, and the memories of Mike searching restlessly for days when he went missing play in her mind like a record.

The love Mike’s always had for Will has always been known, but this kind of love is different, and it’s something that people have known for a lifetime and others have only understood for seconds.

El’s always witnessed the two of them and how they’d move as one, but only now is she looking at it all in a different light. And suddenly, everything seems to make sense in a way it didn’t before, as if she’s only just seeing Mike and Will for the first time as they replay in her head, a rerun of a movie she’s seen countless times but never picked up on the little details.

Part of that is due to the fact that she loved Mike, too. She couldn’t see him with anyone else because he was with her. And yet part of that is because Mike would never _let_ himself see it.

And now they can, and now Mike can _breathe_, and El doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything better.

“You love Will _like that_,” she clarifies, tongue poking out of her mouth with glee.

Mike nods, smiling breathlessly but looking a touch confused. “This is so weird,” he admits. “You – we’re – we broke up about five minutes ago. This surely isn’t a normal conversation to have.”

El’s brow furrows, and she opens her mouth to remind him of the words they’ve exchanged moments prior about being different, but he must know that, too. He stops her before she can, and he’s smiling wider than he has in months, and it’s _wonderful._

“Okay, okay! I know! I just mean – you matter too, El. Not just me.”

“I know that,” she says, because she does. She does matter, and it took her a while to come to terms with that, but she has now. “I’ll get over this, Mike. It’s not – it doesn’t hurt as bad as you might think. I could tell something was… was different, I guess. That you weren’t alright, but there was nothing I could do.”

“I shouldn’t have led you on,” Mike says.

“You didn’t,” El argues, but Mike pins her with a look of disbelief, and so she clarifies. “You didn’t mean to, anyway. I know you, and I know you’d never hurt me on purpose. I know how it feels to want something so bad that you’ll do anything to make it happen. It just sucks that sometimes things don’t work out like that.”

Mike nods, swallowing thickly. “I wanted – I tried so hard to be normal, you know? I’d heard what people called… called Will, and I didn’t want to go through that. And I went through a phase of not – not _wanting_ to be like that, because my whole life I thought I’d liked girls and it just wasn’t _fair_. And I knew my dad wouldn’t approve, to put it lightly, and I guess I was too much of a coward to do anything but try and bury it.”

“You’re not a coward,” El argues fiercely. “Don’t say that.”

She can’t pretend she understands the issue that is people being against gays, because she doesn’t see it as one. She lived in a lab for the first eleven years of her life, and if anything, she should hate the world and the people that inhabit it and want to rain nothing but hellfire down on everything and everyone, but she doesn’t. For all she knows, she could like girls, too. She just hasn’t figured that out yet, like a lot of people, but she’s been through too much to let anybody stop herself from finding out and to stop others from feeling like they belong.

Mike and Will have been through too much to be kept silent, and Mike needs to know that he could never be a coward, even if he had to hide away for a while. There’s nothing weak about that, because he did it to survive, and now he’s trusting El with the knowledge that has been rocking his world for a long, long time.

He’s one of the bravest people she’s ever known.

And so she tells him all of that, whispering to him despite the fact he’s mere inches away, and she’s patient with him as his eyes dart around, avoiding her gaze as he struggles to accept her words. She repeats herself softly a few times, just to make sure that he understands, just to make sure that he knows how loved he is.

“Even so,” Mike says after a while, looking significantly brighter than before. “I’ve upset you.”

El thinks about it for a moment. “I guess it’s just sad, really, because we’ve been together for the past few years and now we won’t be.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“We won’t kiss or hold hands or anything like that,” El realises, face scrunching thoughtfully.

“We can still hold hands,” Mike reminds her, grinning as she perks up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, friends do that! I do it with Will all the time.”

A pause.

“Okay, bad example,” he says, at the same time El dissolves into giggles.

Their laughter takes a little while to die down, because they’d glance at each other and erupt all over again, but it’s the lightest they’ve both been in days, and so they’ll treasure it as much as possible.

They fall back against El’s bed, both lying on their sides facing one another as their final giggles fade away, when she speaks.

“Thank you.”

He blinks. “What for?”

“For trusting me,” she says, nudging him with her knee. “For telling me how you felt, and being honest with me. And yourself.”

“…since when did you get so wise?” Mike asks.

“I do a lot of reading,” El replies seriously, and he huffs out a laugh.

He might not be in love with her, but he loves her an awful lot.

“I’m not – I mean, I’m not going to act on how I feel about Will anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

“El, I know you say you’re fine, but I wouldn’t do that to you.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he barrels on, not giving her the chance. “We’ll settle back as friends and see how things go. I have a lot of making up to do anyway, with Will.”

“You do?”

“I’ve been ignoring him,” Mike admits, ashamed. “Not on purpose, at least at first. It just got hard, being around him. And I liked spending time with you, I did, don’t get me wrong. I just – I wanted to stay in that bubble for as long as I could. Like nothing had changed.”

“I understand,” El echoes again. “I really do, Mike.”

“Sometimes I think it took me so long to know how I felt because it was always there,” Mike says next. “Sometimes I think I’ve loved him forever, which is why it made everything so hard.”

El smiles softly, and Mike mirrors it, and they lie there gazing at one another for several passing moments.

“You know, he feels the same.”

“You don’t know that,” Mike replies instantaneously. “You didn’t – you never even saw that I liked him like that until a few seconds ago.”

“Maybe not, but I saw _him_.”

Mike swallows, contemplating. “What do you mean?”

“He’s always loved you, Mike, whatever way that was,” El says. “And now that we’ve spoken, I don’t think it’s entirely one sided.”

“Don’t get my hopes up,” Mike jokes, but his smile falters, eyebrows creasing in thought.

“I can see it now,” El admits. “Looking back on everything… I can _see_ it.”

“You’re just holding out hope because you love me,” Mike tries to remain light, but his voice wobbles, trailing off towards the end.

El doesn’t tear her gaze away from Mike’s as she slides a hand across her duvet, intertwining their fingers again and squeezing.

“That’s true,” El says softly. “But I’m serious, Mike. You and me, we’re going to be okay, and so are you and Will - _more_ than okay.”

“You really think so?” Mike asks quietly, trying (and failing) to keep the hope out of his voice. “Just… the way I feel about him scares me a little. And that’s just without knowing if he likes me back or not, so please don’t – don’t say anything unless it’s true.”

“I love you,” El echoes for the third time that night. “And I think he loves you, too. More than I ever could.”

“And I love you,” Mike replies automatically, and El closes her eyes at the blissful sound. It might not carry the same weight as before, but it’s equally as important, and El actually thinks she prefers it much better this way. Not just because he’s happier, but because El thinks that she’s looking forward to a new form of independence.

El thinks that having friends are always going to be more important than relationships, anyway.

“Do you really think so, though?” Mike urges, hair wild and eyes pleading, and El snorts at his desperation.

She waits until he stops squirming and falls quiet, until he’s doing nothing more than looking at her and holding his hand, and then she answers honestly, all the love she has for Mike Wheeler seeping into her voice.

“Friends don’t lie.”

* * *

**\+ 1**

It’s a few days shy of Will’s sixteenth birthday when Mike’s voice crackles through over the radio, telling Will to meet him at the local playground.

He doesn’t even get to question why, because Mike’s chirping out the familiar _over and out_ they’ve always used since they were kids, and then the radio cuts out on his end, leaving nothing but static.

Either way, Will’s grinning as he switches his radio off and goes to get his shoes and his jacket, a dozen possibilities flooding through his head.

It’s been a while since it’s been just the two of them. After that summer of tension and longing for things to go back to normal when they were all fourteen, things shifted. Mike and El broke up in the following January, and yet the two seemed just as close as ever, laughing and smiling as though nothing had gone wrong.

Whenever Will tried to mention it, Mike would shrug it off and say things were better now than before, that they weren’t meant to be together. Will hates the way his chest flared with hope at that, because it made him a bad friend, a bad brother, but he’s always had a soft spot reserved in his heart for Mike Wheeler and can’t help the hope he holds out for Mike to turn around and want Will, too.

It never happened, though.

They got closer again, much closer. Mike started spending most of his free time with Will again, with the occasional day reserved for El, because he wasn’t going to abandon her just because they were strictly friends now. And after a while, they became a trio of sorts, when Dustin was away with Steve and Lucas and Max wanted to do their own thing, and it worked.

It made Will happier than he’d felt in years.

He had his best friend back, and his sister was happy, and he felt light. There were no more threats of the Upside Down or the Demogorgon and it didn’t look like there’d be for a while, or at least he hoped. It gave them all the chance to make up for lost time, to be _kids_ like they should’ve been instead of forced to grow up.

They swam in the quarry after dark and they biked everywhere and had races, and they went to the arcade for hours and competed with one another until their lungs were hoarse. They went to the mall and went around laughing and dipping into the different stores, and they always bothered Steve whenever they went (although bothered probably isn’t the word to use, because he loves those kids like they’re his own) and they fell back into the tight knit closeness that had been frayed and worn and pried apart but never broken, just needing repair.

And so they repaired it, and everything became better.

And now they’re all sixteen apart from Will and they’re all in high school, thriving at their respective subjects and moaning about others. Will thinks he’s going to study art when he’s older, maybe dabbling in photography like Jonathan, whilst the rest of them haven’t quite stuck to one study like Will has yet. Some of them have ideas, like Mike who toys with the concept of journalism, and others like Dustin who have said that his subject will choose _him_, not the other way around.

Either way, it’s not too serious, because they still have a few years before they all go off to college. El seems keen on keeping the Party together – she’d gone so long without a family that she wasn’t willing to give them up without a fight, and for once, Will isn’t worried about the future.

They’ve survived the Upside Down and Demogorgons and all the bits in between, and so they can absolutely survive high school and the foreseeable future, because they’ve got each other.

“Mom, I’m going to meet Mike! I won’t be long!” Will calls out to her as he heads for the door, tugging his jacket on as he goes.

“Have fun,” El croons from the sofa, and when he glances over, there’s a twinkle in her eye that Will can’t place.

“Shut up,” Will retorts, hoping his face isn’t bright red like it normally is whenever he does so much as think about Mike, and he’s out the door before he can notice the way El smirks knowingly before turning back to the television.

Will bikes towards the playground they used to visit occasionally, the one Mike told him to meet him at. It’s small, with a round-a-bout and a swing set and slides and all those bits, and they’d used to go there to feel like kids again when everything got too much.

They haven’t needed to in these past few years, though. They’ve had their time to be normal teenagers for once.

When he arrives, Will doesn’t see Mike. There’s nobody else there, and the sun is just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, coating the sky an orange rust colour that makes him feel sentimental. He pulls up at the entrance and hops off his bike, leaving it resting against the bars that outline the playground itself, and he shoves the tarnished gate open that creaks with age and heads straight to the swings.

That’s how Mike finds him a few minutes later, swinging idly as he stares absently at the sky.

“Hey.”

Will’s head snaps to the sound, a smile automatically crossing his face as he spots Mike walking towards him. He’s about to open his mouth to reply, but Mike holds his hand up to get him to stop, and Will clamps his mouth shut in confusion as Mike stops a few steps shy of the swing set.

“I’m Mike. I was wondering if you wanted to be my friend?”

It takes Will three seconds to catch up, which is admittedly three seconds too long, but once it hits, Will throws his head back and laughs loudly.

“Yes,” he says, and then when he sees Mike crack a smile, he says it again. “_Yes_.”

“Oh, thank God,” Mike jokes, settling down into the other swing beside him. “You had me worried for a second there.”

“You’re such a _dork_,” Will declares, and his cheeks hurt from grinning because of course Mike would reference the start of their friendship whilst on a damn swing.

They bask in the silence for several moments, simply enjoying the peace and being in the company of one another, before Will feels the question building in his throat.

“What did you want to see me for?”

Mike makes a vague sound with his mouth. “I just wanted to see you,” he settles on saying.

Will’s face heats up, and he suppresses the urge to hold Mike’s hand, tightening his grip on the chains.

“Alright, alright. So what’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

Will frowns. “I don’t know, I just figured you had something to say. It’s not every day we meet like this, not anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mike says quietly, kicking the asphalt with the tip of his shoe, swaying ever so slightly. “I never did tell you how sorry I am about that, you know.”

“About what?”

“Ditching you a while back. I was always too busy for you, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“Mike, that was over a year ago,” Will says. “I mean, I appreciate you saying this and all, but – but it’s done now. I already forgave you ages ago.”

They never spoke about how Mike left Will behind in the dirt for an extended period of time. There were times when it looked as though Mike wanted to bring it up, or at least say something, because he’d get that thoughtful look on his face and he’d look at Will and go to speak, only he’d stop. And things weren’t awkward, because Mike made a point of showing Will that he wanted things to go back to normal, that he was here and wasn’t going anywhere, not anymore.

Besides, it’s not as if Will could ever stay mad at Mike for long.

“I know, but I never – I never told you.”

“It’s fine-”

“It’s _not_, Will!” Mike barks out, startlingly loud in the quiet of the area. Will balks, taken by surprise, and Mike’s face softens as soon as he glances at Will, heaving out a heavy sigh.

“Mike,” Will starts gently, eyes searching for a sign as to where this is going, but he finds none.

“You’re my best friend, and I’ve kept things from you. I never told you why I was a jerk, and I never told you why El and I broke up, and I just – I owe you a lot, okay? I owe you this.”

Will falls quiet, his head a loud chorus of thoughts he can’t separate, unable to decide on where to go from here, on what he wants to ask or say.

“I’ve spent the past year thinking of how to say this, to put it into words, and I’m still just as lost.” Mike turns to look at him, and Will feels like he’s on fire. “I don’t think I can, but I’m going to try. And I’m scared, but… I want to be brave, okay?” Mike’s eyes shine. “Like you.”

“I’m not brave,” Will forces out, stomach in knots and his mouth numb. He wonders if Mike can hear just how loudly his heart is thumping.

“Yes, you are,” Mike argues softly. “You’ve always been brave, even before the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer and everything like that. It’s just – it’s just _you_, Will.”

Will shakes his head in disagreement, because he can’t bring himself to speak, vocal chords clipped and tongue heavy. Mike just smiles with ease, as if he’s not even listening to Will’s attempts at denial.

“Samwise the brave,” Mike says loftily.

The reference transports Will back to the days in which the Party would be obsessed with the _Lord of the Rings_, bickering over who would be who. Will always sat back, and he’d pry his eyes from Dustin and Lucas to look over at Mike, who’d smile knowingly at him.

“Frodo wouldn’t have got far without Sam,” Mike recites easily, earnest eyes gazing deep into Will’s soul, the words holding so much more meaning than a quote of a character.

“You would’ve been fine,” Will manages eventually, trying to tame his wild heart, pushing down the adoration that bubbles in his chest.

At that, Mike laughs, but it’s half-hearted, an absent breath that sounds more dismissive than anything. “You didn’t see what I was like when you were gone.”

Will didn’t, but he’d heard enough. El told him eventually about how devastated Mike was, how he was running himself into the ground trying to find Will, how he showed no mercy when she’d slip up and make him think that he’d lost Will forever. The other boys would tell him how protective Mike was when the Mind Flayer happened, and how Dustin and Lucas felt like they were asking for death if they tried to take care of Will the way Mike did. And Max was always blunt and upfront, saying that Mike was totally head over heels, that Will could probably hit Mike with a car and he’d probably thank him and reassure him that it was all his fault instead.

He’d heard plenty, but it’s different coming from Mike.

It’s hearing his favourite song for the first time in a long time, that feeling of coming home when he hadn’t realised he’d been gone. It’s knowing that Mike matters above everything, and that Mike’s got a hold over him like nobody else. Mike’s got his heart, like always, and Will’s never fought to get it back.

He doesn’t think he ever could.

“I just – I wasted so much time, Will,” Mike tells him. “There never seemed to be the right moment, and if there was, I was always too scared to do anything about it. I was worried I’d lose you, and that just – that wasn’t something I was willing to risk.”

Will feels his chest tighten.

“And I know I made it worse, those days when I was distracted and I wouldn’t make enough time for you. It was hard to be around you sometimes, because I couldn’t-”

Mike falls short, staring into his lap, and Will’s heart is in his throat. He has so many questions burning away from inside, things he desperately wants to know but doesn’t quite know how to get there.

Mike takes a deep breath, and then he glances back up to look Will in the eyes.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to catch up. I just – I didn’t know, and then I got stuck, and then I realised that no matter what I did, I’d always feel the same.”

“Mike-” Will chokes out desperately.

“You’d just – you’d always catch up with me.”

“I don’t _understand_.”

Will knows he sounds miserable, on the edge of tears and fingers shaking, making the chains of the swing rattle from where he’s got them in an iron grip.

Mike’s eyes are glassy, and his voice snags when he speaks next.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words make Will jolt out of his seat, stumbling with weakened limbs and quivering bones, and the first of his tears fall from his eyes. He hears chains clink together, footsteps coming towards him, but he can’t _breathe_ –

“Will_, look at me_.”

And he does.

Mike’s voice splits through the evening as clear as day, and Will’s got tears streaming down his cheeks and his entire body trembles but Mike’s there, right in front of him. His own eyes are wet, and he’s starting to cry himself, reaching out to grasp Will’s face with both hands and tilting his chin up.

“I love you,” Mike repeats, pitchy and damp, and Will doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything more melodic in his life.

He can’t help himself, though. He can’t let himself have this, and so he asks with a shaky voice, “Are you messing with me?”

The fingers ghosting along Will’s jawline fall away ever so slightly, as if unsure as to whether they can stay connected, and Mike seems to visibly deflate.

“No,” Mike breathes, looking dejected. “No, I’m not. I would never – Will, _I swear_. I’m sorry I’ve taken so long, but I mean it, okay?”

Will feels his knees buckling, seconds away from falling, and Mike’s arms circle around his waist as he lowers himself to the ground, because he doesn’t think he can hold himself up any longer. And Mike follows without question, never once looking away from him, not once letting go.

Will loves him so much that it hurts.

Mike raises one hand to cradle Will’s face again, thumbing away a stray tear that falls without permission. His voice is raw and honest and Will treasures it deeply, but he’s terrified that this is all a dream. He’s been wanting this for so long, but he never thought it’d actually happen, and so the fact that it _is_ happening doesn’t sit right in his stomach.

It feels like it’s going to be taken away from him.

“I thought I was bisexual for a while,” Mike admits softly, voice cracking from the weight of his words, of the things he’s been wanting to tell Will for years. “I liked El, and – and I liked this boy I’ve known since I was in kindergarten, because he’s pretty great.”

Mike becomes blurry from a fresh onslaught of tears, but to Will, he’s still beautiful.

“Only I realised after a while that the way I felt about El wasn’t – wasn’t like how I thought it was. I tried so hard to make it work, but it didn’t, and it got harder to ignore. And as much as I loved El, it wasn’t like that.”

Will blinks away his tears, letting them run free as Mike becomes crystal clear like always, the centre of Will’s world. He’s staring down at Will with an expression so open, so sincere, that the small burning that blossomed in Will’s chest has escalated to a full blown forest fire.

“It wasn’t like how I like you,” Mike reveals. “And it took me a while, but I figured myself out. I wasn’t – I wasn’t bisexual, and I didn’t love El the way that I love _you_, the way I’ve _always_ loved you, and I’m gay and I know now who I want to _be_ and who I want to be _with_.”

It’s a lot to take in, because Will’s head was already clogged with the fact that Mike’s said the words Will has imagined ever since he learned what love was. And now he’s learning that he’s gay, just like Will, and that he’s been going through this alone this entire time when Will should’ve stepped in and been the best friend he’s meant to be, and Will still can’t _breathe_.

“Hey,” he hears, cutting through his state of panic like a lighthouse breaks through the night, and he feels his hand delicately pulled against the rise and fall of Mike’s chest. “Focus on my breathing, okay? You’re alright.”

Will wants to tell him so, _so_ much. Such as how much he loves him, how much he’s loved him since he even knew what love meant, and how he can return everything Mike has said. Only he can’t quite speak, and his breathing is still uneven, but he curls his fingertips into Mike’s sweater and feels the thump of his chest beneath the material, and the warmth that flares along his palm could rival the sun.

That’s the effect Mike Wheeler has always had on him.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Mike whispers, and Will looks up at him through the constellation of tears dotting along his lashes, and finds what he’s always been too oblivious to notice.

He finds Mike staring at him with so much _love_ that makes Will want to pinch himself, because he can’t afford for this to be a dream. He can’t wake up in his bed after this, alone and cold, not when he’s finally felt what it means to be alive after years of torment.

“I should’ve been there for you.”

Somehow, Will can speak. It’s dry and faint, as though he’s been screaming himself hoarse for days, and his breathing still stutters but nowhere near as bad as before, and Mike is still _here_.

“It’s okay,” Mike tells him. “It really is, Will. I know you wish you were there, but you couldn’t have been. You -” he pauses, laughing slightly. “You were the reason as to why I freaked out so much. I couldn’t tell you that I was gay, because that would have meant I’d have to tell you how I felt, and I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Did you talk to El, at least?” Will asks. He asks because he needs to _know_, because if Mike didn’t have anybody, Will would never forgive himself.

“Yeah, I did,” Mike reassures him. “When we broke up, it was because I came clean about everything. And she was _so_ supportive, Will. And she was for months after that.”

Will’s insides still twist with that familiar pang of guilt, the kind that makes him feel sick.

“I know deep down that if I had told you, you wouldn’t have pushed me, or made me feel unwanted. That was the problem. I knew you’d still love me, but I convinced myself it’d never be in the way I wanted. And having you has a friend has always been the most important thing in my life, but I didn’t want to be _just_ your friend. It’s why I had to hide away from you. I couldn’t let you know, because I wasn’t ready yet.”

Mike smiles at him sadly.

“It’s like I said. I wasn’t strong enough.”

Will can’t help but scramble for his hands, clasping them in his own as they fall to his lap. It feels almost poetic, the way they’re linked together even as they fall, because that’s how it’s always been. They’ve faced so much, but it’s always been the two of them against the world, and they’ve faced their fears countless times before now but none of those battles seemed quite as terrifying as this one.

It’s their friendship at stake.

And more importantly, it’s _them_, teetering between taking the leap and falling back against the ground. It’s Mike and Will, always walking the line between friends and _more than_ friends, always too afraid to let themselves have anything good when the bad would conceal it in shadows, hiding it away from the light.

Will hates being afraid.

He wants to be brave, the way he became when facing the Mind Flayer and the Upside Down and every piece of hell shoved in his face for the past several years. He wants to be exactly what Mike thinks of him, he wants to be what Mike _needs_, and he’s fed up of hiding instead of facing the storm.

“You’ve always been strong,” Will echoes, swaying forward slightly into Mike’s space, catching his eye. “And you’ve always been there for me.”

Mike looks seconds away from protesting, mouth opening to correct Will on his words, but Will won’t let him. He can’t, because that would mean that Mike makes himself appear smaller than he is, that he’s a child in comparison to the man he’s become, and Will refuses to let him.

Will decides to be brave.

“And you’ve always been the one I want.”

He watches, entranced as Mike’s lip part slightly in pure disbelief, and Will’s voice cracks on his next words but he doesn’t bring himself to care.

“Are you ready now?”

Mike seems frozen for several moments, transfixed on Will as if he’s going to disappear, and Will waits with baited breath and sweaty palms for him to react. It’s the two of them for miles, with no other distractions, no other excuses to prolong this any longer.

He’s loved Mike since he was little. It’s about time he makes it known.

“Yes,” Mike breathes out, and his hands break free from Will’s grasp to cup either side of Will’s face, thumbs brushing his cheeks. His hair is dishevelled and his eyes are wide with awe, as if he can’t believe his eyes, and Will mirrors his feeling in the flare of heat taking over his face.

The final rays of sun spread across the sky as it slowly hides away for the night, and it lights Mike up with a fiery halo that makes him look ethereal, warm and frenzied in the way that Mike has always managed to make Will feel. It’s fitting, impossibly so, and he feels one of Mike’s thumbs brush over his bottom lip as the last dregs of daylight disappear, and much like everything else in his life, Mike remains to be the only thing left when all else fades away.

Mike smiles, as bright as the sky around him.

“I’m ready.”

And then he’s ducking his head, urgent yet cautious, and Will jolts forward, meeting him halfway. Their mouths meet and Will lets his eyes fall shut and he lets Mike Wheeler set him alight, burning bright and igniting every nerve ending in his body, gently moving his lips as Mike sighs, tugging him closer.

It’s Will’s first kiss ever, but what’s more important is that it’s his first kiss with _Mike_, and he doesn’t think it could be more fitting. It’s the climax of the latest chapter in their story, knelt beside a swing set that acts as an echo of their first meeting, and it brings everything full circle in a form so sweet that Will’s teeth ache.

He can’t remember when exactly he fell in love with Mike Wheeler. It’s just something that’s always existed, maybe as long as their friendship itself, and Will couldn’t pry it apart from the moments they’ve shared even if he wanted to.

He can’t remember a time where Mike wasn’t the one for him.

Will pulls himself away from Mike, slow and hesitant, relishing in the way Mike lets out a slight huff at the loss of contact. His mouth tingles and his fingers twitch to touch his lips, but instead he raises them to cup Mike’s face this time, and Mike’s arms fall to Will’s hips as a smile graces Will’s mouth with softness.

“I love you, too,” he says first, because he should’ve said it years ago. It’s always the first thought he has when he wakes up, and the last thing he thinks when he goes to bed, and it’s the answer Will has been dying to give Mike no matter the question asked.

“Yeah?” Mike breathes, grinning. He leans his forehead against Will’s, noses brushing, and everything about Will is crying out, _I love you I love you I love you_.

“Yeah,” Will confirms. “I always have.”

“I’m – I’m going to do this right, okay? Because it’s you and me, and this – I’ve been dreaming about this for years. You deserve so much, and I want to give you that. I want to make up for all the time I’ve wasted, and I will.”

“Mike,” huffs Will affectionately, ducking and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, beaming when Mike tries to chase his mouth as he pulls back. “You already have.”

“But -”

“But nothing,” he argues gently. “You’ve got me, Mike. You have since we were kids. And if you ever get scared, or have doubts about who you are and what you want, I’ll be here to help you. We’re going to get through this, Mike. _Us_.”

Mike exhales wetly, eyes glistening with tears. “You and me,” he repeats, and it sounds like a promise.

Will nods, his own eyes equally as damp. “You and me,” he vows.

“I’ll tell you everything properly later, or tomorrow,” Mike says. “About – about everything, I swear I will, but I want – I want to stay like this for a little longer.”

“Then we will.”

Mike kisses him again, soft and sweet, and Will smiles into the kiss because this is finally happening. Mike is happy, and Will is happy, and Mike is _in love_ with him.

Will figured for a long time that nothing good could last, but Mike Wheeler proved him wrong every time.

Mike’s tongue darts out and brushes against Will’s bottom lip, an arm coiling around his waist as the other reaches up and holds the back of Will’s head, fingers tangling in Will’s hair. Will himself presses closer, tugging Mike’s face towards him with both hands, and he lets himself open his mouth and breathe Mike in and for their tongues to brush, and he’s never tasted anything sweeter than this moment.

“Wait, wait,” Will finds himself saying, hands sliding down to Mike’s chest to gently ease him away. His head is cloudy, intoxicated on everything _Mike_, and Will has to bite his tongue to stop himself from falling back into him, because his lips are puffy and his eyes are hooded and he’s staring at Will with pure _want_, and it’s torture.

“What?”

“Are we… you know…” Will clears his throat, eyes darting to Mike’s knees, suddenly feeling an overwhelming wave of insecurity crash over his head.

Mike is in love with him, and he’s in love with Mike, and they’re kissing and it’s wonderful and Will doesn’t think he’s ever experienced this euphoria before. Except there’s a part of Will that’s still scared that this could be taken away from him as easily as a snap of fingers, that he’s reading too much into things. Mike might have accepted that he’s gay, and that he likes Will, but what about commitment? What then?

What if it turns out that Will is too much for him?

Mike blinks slowly, as if waiting for Will to continue, but instead he just fidgets, wanting Mike to fill in the blanks himself instead of having to explain.

And after a moment, it works. “_Oh_,” Mike says, and Will nods, the tips of his ears turning crimson with embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he mumbles awkwardly, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Mike scrubs a hand down his face, and then he says, “Get on the swing.”

That’s probably the last thing Will was expecting to hear.

“What?”

“Get on the swing,” Mike repeats, sounding twice as confident as before. He doesn’t even wait for Will to respond, and instead scrambles to his feet, staring down expectantly and offering a hand.

“You’re stupid,” Will retorts, and his heart has kicked into overdrive once more, anxious as he lets Mike pull him up, and then he’s practically falling into the left swing seat, struggling to hold himself up by the chains because of his sweaty palms.

“_You’re_ stupid,” responds Mike, but there’s a playful edge to his tone that calms Will a fraction until he decides to move, backing up away from the swing and making Will feel that he’s apart of some prank or scheme after all.

“I don’t-”

“Will, it’s okay,” Mike says reassuringly. “Just trust me, okay?”

And because Will always has, he doesn’t question it. “Okay.”

Mike smiles, letting out a breath, and then he edges forward into Will’s space, towering over him and yet somehow appearing impossibly small, almost apprehensive.

“Hey,” he starts, and Will wants to _scream_-

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me_, is the first thought that springs to mind.

Will gears himself up, ready to yell at Mike for nearly giving him a heart attack, when he stops. Mike is gazing patiently at him, open and innocent and yet somehow nervous, and he’s wringing his hands in front of him and fidgeting and it’s then that Will realises that what he is seeing is _doubt_.

He remembers a five year old Mike approaching him cautiously on a swing set, asking for a friend with a tone that leaves room for disappointment, as if he’s already anticipated Will saying no. And now sixteen year old Mike is asking an entirely different question, one that he should know would have the same answer now as it did back then, and yet he looks just as scared as he did before.

“Yes,” Will says, loud and strong.

Mike’s face softens, features smoothing out and shoulders sagging, and Will doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how Mike makes him feel.

He’s out of his seat and into Mike’s space in the next breath, fingers fisting the front of his sweater and tugging him down, his following word getting caught between them, whispered into Mike’s mouth.

“_Yes._”

There’s an arm tugging him close and a hand tilting his chin back, and Mike’s tongue is in his mouth and he’s kissing Will as if for the last time.

Will giggles against his lips, and he feels Mike let out a breathy laugh, dusting over his mouth.

“You’re a _dork_,” Will breathes, pulling away enough for the words to hang in the air between them, and Mike simply changes course and leaves a dusting of open mouthed kisses against the skin of Will’s jaw, trailing to his throat. “Only you would recreate the start of our friendship with something like that.”

His breath hitches when Mike sucks lightly on his neck, tongue darting out to soothe at the skin, and he withdraws enough for Will to feel his breath dust against his throat.

“I told you before, it was the best thing I’ve ever done,” Mike answers honestly, and he’s nudging his face against Will’s, running his nose along his jaw before hovering his mouth millimetres away from Will’s. “So is this.”

They meet in the middle, slow and prolonging, with Mike’s teeth occasionally snagging against Will’s bottom lip as he alternates between sucking and tugging, and Will can feel his grin when he does, enjoying the way Will’s breath continues to catch with every passing moment.

“I love you,” Will murmurs between kisses, smothered but still strong.

“And I love you,” Mike returns, holding him tight.

Later, they’re lying in the grass of the nearby field to the left of the playground, eyes to the sky and hands intertwined. Mike plays with Will’s fingers delicately and Will curls up against his side, sliding one of his legs in between Mike’s, and they bask in the afterglow of years’ worth of waiting and pining and a decade worth of love that’s finally taken on a different shape.

“When did you know?”

Mike cranes his head to look at Will thoughtfully. “That I was gay?” he asks.

Will knows they’re going to have that conversation soon. He wants to know everything that Mike is willing to share with him, even if it’s painful and Mike breaks, because Will’s there to pick up the pieces no matter how sharp the edges are. He wants to hear it all, but this is the one thing that can’t wait.

He wants to know if their answers are the same.

“No,” Will says softly. “About us. About _me_.”

At that, Mike rolls his head back to the sky, still idly toying with Will’s fingers. The stars glint and gleam at them within the inky sky, holding a promise of the future, that there’s always light shining through the darkness. Things will be hard, and they’ve both got their own individual defences and insecurities that will surely clash together time after time, but it’s a form of good in the world that they’re going to fight for.

Will has known that practically his whole life. He just wants to know if Mike has, too.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Mike answers eventually, sounding just as content as Will feels. “There’s never been a time where I haven’t.”

And Will relaxes, curling tighter against Mike as he presses a kiss to the column of his throat. Mike lifts Will’s hand and kisses his knuckles, and they lie there listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing, matching smiles tugging at both of their mouths.

They’ve always completed one another, but now Will knows that it’s quite literally in every sense. Mike can’t separate loving Will from anything else in his life, and it’s exactly how Will looks back on it.

“You and me,” Mike murmurs after a moment, squeezing Will’s hand.

Will smiles against Mike’s throat, and repeats the words into his skin.

There was never any other option.


End file.
